


the kind of boy you could write stories about

by jfcyoongi



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - High School, Anal Sex, Anxiety, Basketball, Bipolar Disorder, Body Image, Bullying, Cheating, Developing Relationship, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Partying, Recreational Drug Use, Relapsing, Romantic Gestures, Sexuality Crisis, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-15 05:15:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28558191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jfcyoongi/pseuds/jfcyoongi
Summary: “I’m glad you’re back,” Yeosang remarks and Wooyoung tilts his head to look at the other boy, who doesn’t spare him a glance in return.They’re sat in the library, tucked in a corner between a bookshelf and the computer lab. Glancing around, Wooyoung only spots a couple of other students sitting in a circle on the other side of the room, whispering to each other as the school’s grumpy old librarian glare penetrates their backs. Wooyoung finds his gaze stuck on a particular boy he recognizes, with a name he can’t recall and dimples embedded in his cheeks as he smiles at one of his friends. As Wooyoung watches the other laugh, he decides to stop staring like a creep and turns to face forward, finding Yeosang’s gaze trained on him questioningly.“Glad to be back,” Wooyoung chooses to say instead of acknowledging the words he knows are creeping at the tip of Yeosang’s tongue.
Relationships: Choi San/Jung Wooyoung
Comments: 5
Kudos: 38





	1. the party

“Ah,” Yeosang grins up at him and leans back, crossing his arms over his chest with a smug look on his face. “After all these weeks, you’ve finally come to join me,”

“Yeah, yeah,” Wooyoung groans and drops himself in a chair across the table from Yeosang. “Some kid in my English class was being disruptive, so Mrs. Kiss made me leave after class so they could talk,”

“Sounds awful,” Yeosang replies as he flips a page in his book, no longer looking at Wooyoung. “Now you’re stuck here with me,”

“Definitely awful,” Wooyoung lets out a dramatic sigh and leans forward to rest his head on the cool table. His cheek pressed against the hard plastic, squishing his teeth into his cheek uncomfortably. 

“I’m glad you’re back,” Yeosang remarks and Wooyoung tilts his head to look at the other boy, who doesn’t spare him a glance in return. Comfortable silence stretches between them and Wooyoung inhales through his nose, face scrunching up as an unpleasant scent invades his nostrils. He lifts his head from the table, rubbing at his slightly sore cheek, and peers around him. They’re sat in the library, tucked in a corner between a bookshelf and the computer lab. Glancing around, Wooyoung only spots a couple of other students sitting in a circle on the other side of the room, whispering to each other as the school’s grumpy old librarian glare penetrates their backs. Wooyoung finds his gaze stuck on a particular boy he recognizes, with a name he can’t recall and dimples embedded in his cheeks as he smiles at one of his friends. 

Wooyoung thinks they might have had a class together once, but doesn’t remember having ever interacted with the boy. He’s popular and well-liked, showing in the way the eyes of the people around him naturally gravitate to meet his own when he speaks. Wooyoung finds himself having a difficult time looking away, intrigued by the peroxide blonde of his hair and eyebrows, two balls of silver glinting back at him from where they’re lodged in the boy’s skin. As Wooyoung watches the other laugh, he decides to stop staring like a creep and turns to face forward, finding Yeosang’s gaze trained on him questioningly.

“Glad to be back,” Wooyoung chooses to say instead of acknowledging the words he knows are creeping at the tip of Yeosang’s tongue. He folds his arms on the table in front of him and leans forward slightly, ready to drop his forehead into the crook of his elbow. “Wake me up once lunch starts?”

Yeosang peers at Wooyoung, silent and impassive. Wooyoung watches him back, letting Yeosang pick him apart from a distance. Finally, Yeosang nods and goes back to reading his book. Wooyoung relaxes and rests his face against his arms, eyes falling shut.

-

When Wooyoung arrives home after school, he is immediately greeted with the sight of his father splayed out on the couch. A cigarette burns in his hand and wispy tendrils of smoke waft around him. Wooyoung tries not to grimace at the smell, choosing not to look at his father and instead study the tacky tiles under his shoes. He wants to walk past his father and straight to his room, to avoid any potential strained interactions. He tries; making it through the small living space and kitchen area, past his father's room, and to the bottom of the stairs that lead up to the second story of their apartment, where Wooyoung resides. 

“I’m having someone over tonight,” Wooyoung’s father grunts and exhales a cloud of smoke forward, temporarily blurring his view of the television. Wooyoung wants to scream. All he had wanted was to come home and bury himself in snacks and whatever shitty reality show appealed to him, but it’s a Friday night and he should have known his father would have company. Pairing shallow inhales with shaky exhales, Wooyoung tries to calm himself down. If his father would be having someone over tonight, Wooyoung does not want to be home. “Wooyoung, did you hear me?”

“I was hoping to finish a project tonight,” Wooyoung tries and feels nervous beads of sweat begin to form along his hairline. At last, Wooyoung looks at his father, taking in the daring look he’s leveled with. Deciding not to test his father's limits, Wooyoung drops his head and sighs. “I’ll be going out tonight. I’ll find somewhere to stay,”

“Good, be careful Wooyoung,” Comes his father’s reply and Wooyoung goes to lift a leg and begin climbing the stairs before hurtful remarks come flying his way and knock him off his feet. “Don’t disrespect me again, I was already lenient in letting you grow your hair to that dastardly length and focus on your studies instead of working. And take off that makeup for god's sake, at least try to act like a man,”

Wooyoung tries to ignore the way his father’s words threaten to strip him down and bear everything “wrong” with Wooyoung as he dashes to his room. Throwing the door shut behind him, Wooyoung presses himself against it and swallows down the sobs threatening to rip from his throat. Frustrated and upset, Wooyoung collapses into the warmth of the duvet and runs his fingers through his hair. He grounds himself as he plays with the strands, so long on top that if he didn’t part his bangs down the middle they would obscure his view. Wooyoung breathes and slides his palms across the short hair around the sides and back of his head, down to the sticky skin of his neck, and under the material of his sweatshirt to brush across his shoulder. 

Upon calming down, Wooyoung rises from his spot and drifts to his adjoined bathroom. Finding himself in front of his mirror, he stares at himself in contempt. A sheen of cold sweat rests on his skin, mocking him. There are remnants of his favorite star glitter clustered around his eyes, some pieces stuck to his nose, next to the small black rings that protrude from the skin of each nostril. His hair is noticeably greasy, hanging over his ears and eyes in scraggly waves. Under his almost obsidian, almond eyes rested shadows buried beneath his skin. He hates his eyes; resents his monolid and inability to conceal his feelings behind blank stares. Turning his head to the side and trailing his gaze from his own eyes to the slight bump in the bridge of his nose, he whips his gaze from his reflection to his shower. 

Stepping forward, he grips the shower handle and starts the water. He peels off his sweatshirt and jeans, leaving him in loose boxers. Removing his last article of clothing, he once again stares at his reflection. Taking in the sight of his bare body; the dip of his waist and narrow shoulders, he can’t help but want to resent what he sees.

Sometimes he hates his body, not quite like the other boys who sport lean muscle or bulk. All his life his parents hadn’t understood how he could exude effeminacy and resist physical masculine ideals, so from a young age, they made him feel like a freak and alienated him. When he had just turned thirteen and refused the idea of joining any sports programs, to focus on fashion and his interests, his mother walked out and never came back. Despite his inner turmoil at having been abandoned, his father blamed it on him. Since then, he’s never respected him as an equal, instead choosing to call him names such as “fairy” or “sissy” or even “faggot”. 

Now, almost 18, he runs his hands down his sides as water cascades down him. He scrubs away all of his father’s words and tries to replace them with his silent ones of encouragement. He scrapes fingernails over his scalp, flourishing in the freedom to completely bare himself under the stream. Older, he’s learning to embrace his body and identity in the comfort of his room. Outside of his own four walls, he hides behind layers of clothes and books, in an attempt to shield himself from others judgmental stares or words. He is content with hiding behind fabric and a facade, as long as he doesn’t have to deal with the same rejection he once received from his mother again. 

Slipping out of the shower, he wraps himself in a towel and steps into his room. It’s dark outside, leaving only his large lamp to illuminate the expanse of the room. In the artificial glow, he slides into an oversized red hoodie and a pair of random skinny jeans he found discarded on the floor in a pile of clothes. He blow-dries his hair straight, styling it to his liking, and dabs the same glitter he’d washed off earlier around his eyes. Dressed and not wanting to be around for his father's lady friend to arrive, he grabs his phone and wallet, shoving his hands into his hoodie pocket.

When he leaves he doesn’t say goodbye, choosing to wordlessly step out into the balmy night air and heads to where he knows a classmate is throwing a party.

-

It turns out, the party is at Jaehyun’s house. Wooyoung relaxes as he gazes up at the Jung’s large white house, familiar to him after many afternoons spent hunched over large biology textbooks at Jaehyun’s kitchen table or slumped over his large leather couch watching reruns of old Korean dramas. That had been last year when they had been made lab partners by their teacher after both had failed the class their freshman year and were required to repeat it. Despite Jaehyun being on the basketball team and generally having nothing in common with Wooyoung, he’d tried his hardest to befriend the latter and it had worked. 

Wooyoung hasn’t spoken to Jaehyun since their junior year, almost five months ago. He knows he’s still welcome though. Jaehyun and he don’t need to talk regularly for Wooyoung to be confident in their friendship; countless secrets between the two that neither have ever dared utter to anyone else. Besides Yeosang, Jaehyun is his best friend and honestly the one person he can go to if something is bothering him. 

He doesn’t hesitate to pull himself up the stairs to Jaehyun’s beige front door, feeling the music from inside vibrating through his hand as it connects with the handle and tugs. Letting himself in, he immediately feels eyes on him. There aren’t many people in the front room, just a group of bodies Wooyoung doesn't recognize huddled around each other. He tries not to let their gaping bother him, letting muscle memory take over and lead him to the kitchen. As he enters the room, the wooden floors shake beneath his feet and heat instantly begins to lick up his body, flushing his neck and face. No one pays him any mind, too engrossed in the mass of bodies dancing or the slide of skin on skin or the burn of liquid pooling in their stomachs. He pushes past a couple he recalls running for student council, making out, and grabs an almost empty discarded bottle of vodka. He lifts himself onto the counter, cradling the bottle in his lap as if staking his claim. 

Surprisingly, he finds he is alone at the counter strewn with alcohol and smiles. 

He removes the vodka bottle cap, raising the bottle to his lips and tipping it back. He lets the liquid prick at his throat as he downs the bottle, only pulling away when the stream of liquor stops. Discarding the bottle, he grabs another and finishes it off too. He’s emptied three more down his throat before he settles for a bottle of beer and slides off the marble countertop. 

Only then does he notice a telltale warmth in his lower abdomen spread throughout him, leaving his limbs feeling heavy and his mind a bit hazy. Tipsy, he wanders into the crowd, encompassing himself within the moving bodies. He begins to sway and let the loud thrum of the music overwhelm him, loosening up as the heat of too many people pressed against him starts to feel a little less suffocating. He’s letting his feet step unconsciously, mindlessly letting his arms swing around and trail over his torso. His knees knock together as he whirls around, jeans pasted to his legs. Almost immediately, a body knocks against his back, arms winding their way around his waist before he can lose his balance. The strong grip pulls him back, pressing him flush against a taller, solid figure. He can’t find it within himself to be bothered or even pull away from the body, slotting itself behind him, firm palms pressing under the fabric of his sweatshirt and into the dips of his waist. His eyes fall shut as the warm hands burn into his skin, fingertips scorching as they skim over his ribs. He falls back into the heat, sweat building at his hairline and breath unsteady as the hands wander further up his body, over his torso, and just below his chest. He doesn’t think of any possible consequences as the hands wander and press roughly into the skin of his torso, electing a gasp from him. The chest behind him rumbles and presses closer, crotch firmly planted against Wooyoung’s lower back and pressing uncomfortably into him. With a groan he finds himself pulling away to turn into the taller’s hold, now opened eyes not seeing his surroundings as he focuses entirely on the firm press of the other’s clasp.

“Wooyoung?” Comes an unfamiliar voice, followed by a loss of warmth against him as the figure pulls away from his body. The room feels like it’s spinning as he finally catches a glimpse of the figure; towering over him, shoulder’s exposed and broad, veins bulging slightly from the same arms previously boxing him in. He finds himself furrowing his eyebrows as he stares up at an unpleasantly recognizable face. Staring back at him, eyes angled down to focus on the front of his sweatshirt, is the peroxide blonde boy from the library he’d seen while sitting with Yeosang.

“Oh my god,” Wooyoung finds himself stuttering as he takes in the male so much closer to him, staring back fully confused.

“You’re Wooyoung, right?” The other boy opens his mouth to speak, drawing Wooyoung’s attention to his cupid’s bow and ridiculously straight teeth. “I’m uh San. I think we had a class together last year. Sorry to come onto you like that, I thought you were a girl. I didn’t realize you were…” He gestures to Wooyoung. “Into guys,”

Only then does reality come crashing down on Wooyoung. He’d just let San, who he can only assume must be popular considering the crowd he sat with in the library, grope him in the middle of a party. Granted, Wooyoung is drunk, but the horror of having a classmate confirm his sexuality is quickly sobering him up. He can tell San is drunk as well, maybe even more so, considering his wandering eyes and flushed face. Wooyoung can’t calm down as every wall he’s ever built to protect himself is torn down and thrown back in his face. He feels the universe laughing at him, reveling in his failure to keep his secret at the touch of another body. Everything around him is screaming, from the universe celebrating his mistake to his father casually obliterating his self worth and body image.

Cursing, Wooyoung rushes out of the throng and past any stragglers. He finds himself squeezing through a small circle of people to get to the bathroom before a hand grabs his wrist and wrenches him to a stop.

“Wooyoung, it’s been forever bro,” He wants to slam his head into the wall. Of course, he would only run into Jaehyun in his urgent haste to the bathroom. “I’m so glad to see you,”

“Jaehyunnie,” Wooyoung turns slowly and plasters on the biggest smile he can muster, silently pleading for Jaehyung to let him go with his eyes. “Didn’t think I’d be seeing you here,”

Jaehyun laughs and one of his friends scoffs, raking his eyes over Wooyoung’s frame. Wooyoung thinks his name is Taeyong, someone he’s seen Jaehyun with before. Jaehyun’s other friends Johnny and Mark stand next to him, eyes locked on each other as they laugh to themselves. Wooyoung almost forgets about his predicament to reach out and ruffle Mark’s hair, his fondness for the younger boy ever so apparent.

“I could say the same about you,” Jaehyun studies him, grin never dropping. “I thought we’d built up a solid friendship, Wooyoungie. Radio silence all summer was unexpected and school started over a month ago, I’ve missed you, man,”

“I did too Jae,” Wooyoung assures Jaehyun, feeling slightly guilty. “I’m sure you’ve heard I was a bit busy,”

“Oh,” Jaehyun trails off, eyes widening as he rubs a hand over the nape of his neck. Johnny and Mark turn to look at them, shock apparent on their faces. Wooyoung wants to shrink under the weight of their silence and winces, smiling sadly. “I didn’t realize that was true…”

“Yeah,” Wooyoung laughs and takes a step back. He’s embarrassed and the stickiness of sweat on his face is beginning to feel unbearable. “I really don’t want to talk about it though, so I’m just gonna use your bathroom,”

“You know where it is,” Jaehyun’s tone softens and he doesn’t object, seemingly tuned in to Wooyoung’s ever-growing discomfort. Wooyoung takes that as a cue he can leave and finally reaches out to rub his fingers against Mark’s scalp, earning a whine from the younger. Wooyoung can’t hide his smile as he pulls the other into a tight hug, enveloped in his warmth. Wooyoung wants to cry at the sensation of the bigger body wrapping around him, remembering that only a few months ago Mark hadn’t been any bigger than him. 

“It was nice to see you, Mark,” Wooyoung pulls away and presses his lips to the side of Mark's face, ignoring the other’s protest of mock disgust. He lets go of Mark and looks back at Jaehyun, barely catching the latter’s wink. “Jaehyun,”

“You too,” Jaehyun speaks and nods in approval as Wooyoung begins to turn and walk away. He only makes it a few steps down the hall before the same voice calls out to him. “Don’t be a stranger,”

“Of course not,” Wooyoung calls back and continues to walk away. He ignores the slur he knows he hears Taeyong throw after him, finding comfort in Jaehyun’s immediate come to his defense.

It only takes a few more minutes for Wooyoung to navigate his way to Jaehyun’s room, tucked away on the corner of the second floor. Closing the door quietly behind him and rushing to the bathroom, Wooyoung shoves the bathroom door closed and his anxiety deflates. He knows no one saw him with San, too drunk or wrapped up in themselves to pay any attention. He also knows San was drunk and most likely won’t remember the events of the night tomorrow, let alone go out of his way to tell anyone. He’d never even heard San’s name before tonight, hadn’t an inkling to who the other was, so it unnerves him San knew who he was even if it was only because they’d shared a class. If San only knew from a single period last school year, he can’t know anything good. It pains Wooyoung to admit he doesn’t remember much of the last year, but everyone else did. San must know too.

“Shit!” Wooyoung shrieks and drops his head to his hands. Shaking his head a few times, he works to calm himself down as tears well up in the corners of his eyes and begin to spill over. He focuses on his breathing to relax, letting his gaze fall on himself in the mirror. Makeup has already begun to smudge around his eyes and run over his face in the trail of his tears. He can’t go back to the party looking like he’d been crying and he can’t imagine having to face San again or take the risk of having San out him tonight. So he breathes and wipes his face with the backs of his hands, before grabbing the doorknob, rushing out of Jaehyun’s room and down the stairs. He makes sure to use a different hallway than the one he’d seen Jaehyun in to get to the front door, fleeing the house less than an hour after he’d arrived.


	2. a misunderstanding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Thank you to everyone who has read and enjoyed my story, I appreciate you all so much!  
> This is my first attempt at a chaptered fic and I'm already struggling to commit to posting consistently haha  
> I wrote around a lot and finished the third chapter before I ever started the second, so istg I won't take as long to upload the next chapter!  
> I've pretty much got the entire plot figured out, but I'm open to suggestions from anyone. I'd love to incorporate the audience's ideas into the story, so if anyone has any feel free to leave them down below or message me on either of my socials at the end.  
> Thank you so much once again! Having so much positive feedback has really inspired me to continue publishing my ideas.  
> This story has a special place in my heart as it's partially inspired by a relationship I had senior year of highschool, with some added themes for dramatics lol, so I hope you all love it!

Wooyoung keeps his head down as he walks into school the next Monday, scuffing his boots against the floor with each step. He hadn’t gone home on Friday after the party, finding himself seated on a squeaky swing in an old park he couldn’t remember ever frequenting instead. Hours alone in the dark didn’t do much but leave him dwelling in his anxiety that San could have already told any number of people what had happened between them. Even after going home the next morning, to a delightfully empty house, his skin crawled with shame. He’s kicked himself over and over for responding to San’s touch instead of yanking away in feigned disgust like he’s had to do so many times before.

He doesn’t look up from his feet until he reaches his locker, grabbing a couple of notebooks he’ll need for his next couple classes and shoving them in his backpack. Slamming the locker shut again, he turns to make his way to the library to camp out during his first unscheduled period like he’s done every day of the semester. He only makes it so far, entering the hallway where the back entrance to the library is located, before he’s forced to stop. A pair of eyes land on him almost instantaneously, widening when they realize who they’re looking at. He finds himself stuck in place, startled as he and San maintain eye contact.

San stands with two other boys Wooyoung doesn’t recognize, who haven’t noticed they’ve lost their friends' attention. The questioning gaze San levels him with isn’t judgemental, but causes discomfort to explode in Wooyoung. He briefly lets his eyes travel over San, taking in the way he slouches slightly and his shirt hangs loosely from his frame, hiding a strong build Wooyoung knows is there. He thinks San looks good, hair mused and hanging messily over his forehead. Warmth spreads across Wooyoung’s cheeks and he nervously clutches at his backpack straps as he ducks his head again and turns around to flee. 

He makes it to the main entrance of the library by the time the bell signaling the beginning of class rings, rushes in and settles himself in a seat at an empty table. His hands are clammy and he can feel cold sweat collecting along his hairline as he screws his eyes shut and focuses on breathing softly.

-

Somehow, Wooyoung sees San a couple of times over the next few days. He’s feeling extremely annoyed when Thursday rolls around and he’s moving homework from his backpack into his locker when San appears right beside him. Wooyoung struggles not to audibly groan and slam his face into the cool steel door as he shuts the locker. San is staring down at him expectantly, hands shoved into the front pockets of his loose jeans as he leans against the row of lockers.

“What?” Wooyoung tries to school his expression and convey his annoyance in his tone, voice cutting sharply through the surrounding silence.

“You don’t have a first period, right?” San counters calmly. His pierced eyebrow quirks up, only serving to bother Wooyoung even more. 

“Why does it matter to you?” He shoots back, trying to keep his brave face on despite the nerves flooding through him. 

San doesn’t answer immediately, just keeps his eyes locked on Wooyoung’s until the latter can’t find it in himself to match his stare anymore. Wooyoung stands still, staring at San’s dirtied white sneakers until he hears the other clear his throat and begin to explain, “I wanted to see if you’d let me speak to you,”

“Aren’t you already?”

“About the party on Friday,”

Wooyoung can’t stop his face as it twists up into an ugly frown, complete with a heavy glare before he turns on his heel and starts stomping away. The shrill sound of the bell ringing fills the hallways, almost masking the swift footsteps gaining on him. San stays quiet as he comes to walk next to Wooyoung, matching his pace.

“Don’t you have something better to do?” Wooyoung spits as he skips the same hallway he’d seen San in that Monday.

“I’m not gonna tell anyone, Wooyoung. Just let me talk to you,” It’s not a plea or a demand, just a simple request, but Wooyoung can’t help but feel hesitant. He doesn’t answer, just continues to stalk through the hallways until they reach a door to exit the building. San steps ahead of him to push the door open, holding it for Wooyoung and then following him outside. The action confuses Wooyoung, who's so used to his classmates whispering about him under their breaths as they actively avoid him. He leads San to a short concrete bench behind the school's gym, sitting himself down and shedding his backpack. San stands to the side, watching Wooyoung.

“I can’t really stop you if that’s what you want,” Wooyoung sighs in defeat as he looks up at San, catching the grin spreading across his face. “Just sit down and stop staring at me,”

“I can do that,” San chuckles and sits down, close but not quite touching Wooyoung. He shrugs his backpack off as well, tossing it haphazardly on the ground next to them. 

“So, what did you want to talk about?” Wooyoung asks as he fumbles a packet of cigarettes and a lighter he’d retrieved from his bag, grabbing a single stick and quickly lighting the end.

“I guess I wanted to explain,” San scratches at the back of his neck, head angled downwards. “I didn’t mean to scare you or upset you that night. I was just pretty drunk and wasn’t thinking things through,”

“Me neither,” Wooyoung reaches out to offer the cigarette to San, who finally looks at him when he reaches out to take it. Wooyoung watches as he inhales a few times before passing the stick back with a small smile.

“I mean it when I say I won’t tell anyone, I know how kids can be- how they already are. I meant it when I said I had thought you were a girl, but I didn’t think… I didn’t really want to stop dancing with you,”

Wooyoung snorts and passes the cigarette back to San, “You don’t have to try and spare my feelings. We were both out of it-”

“I mean it though,” San cuts him off, observing Wooyoung as he smokes. “I saw you dancing alone, but you weren’t awkward or putting on a show. You were just enjoying yourself and I couldn’t look away, that’s why I went and joined you. I was just surprised when I realized it was you because I’d only ever seen you across a room and you never looked like you wanted to be there. Seeing you up close was different and I guess it sounds weird, but… I’m not sure… Is it alright if I say you were pretty?”

San holds out the cigarette for Wooyoung to take back, his eyes earnest. Wooyoung’s lips part and his eyes widen, astonished at the admission he’d never have expected to come from the other boy. San doesn’t look away, but he does become visibly nervous, reaching up to fidget with a small ring hanging from his earlobe as he bites his bottom lip. Wooyoung knows his cheeks turn red and he finds himself reaching up as well to stop himself from smiling. 

“I don’t mind,” He finally breathes out and adverts his eyes as San beams back at him.

“You looked pretty. I mean, you still do. These past few days I’ve thought the same thing. It’s weird for me, I guess. Yeah, you just- you’re pretty,” San stammers, looking away from Wooyoung and down at his shoes as he laughs self-consciously, kicking at the gravel beneath their feet. 

“Thank you,” Wooyoung giggles, kicking his feet as well. “I appreciate it,”

Wooyoung reaches into his pack once more to pull out another cigarette and light it, only a short time left before the two will have to make their way to their respective classes. After taking a few drags, he passes it to San and the boy takes it again. Wooyoung never would have guessed San would be into smoking cigarettes, such a taboo to kids their age, but just like with the last cigarette he inhales like he’s done it a thousand times before.

“I don’t remember having class with you last year, to be honest. The year kind of went by in a blur, but I saw you on Friday and not at the party,”

“Oh yeah?” San glances over at him.

“I saw you in the library with your friends and I thought you looked cool, but not like you were trying to. I like the matching hair and eyebrows, and the piercing. They fit you,”

“Yours fit you too. Most people only go with the one nose ring, but I actually like the two-” San is cut off by the bell, alerting students that the first class of the day has ended. 

“I’ve got to go, I have chem and my teacher can be a real piece of work if we’re late,” Wooyoung laughs and stands up, watching San stub out the cigarette and move to stand as well.

“I have class right now too, so I’ll see you?”

“Yeah, see you,” Wooyoung confirms and begins to walk in the direction of the door they used to exit the school. 

“Don’t be a stranger,” San calls from behind him and Wooyoung feels his mouth quirk up into a smile, but he doesn’t turn around, despite how badly he craves to.

-

Chemistry and English fly by for Wooyoung, and then he’s seated across from Yeosang in the library during their shared free period. Yeosang’s busy working on some English essay about a book Wooyoung never bothered to read and Wooyoung’s slouched over the table, sneakily snacking on a cookie he’d bought from one of the vending machines around campus. 

The period goes by rather quickly, Wooyoung keeping himself occupied drawing little figures across the table's surface. He parts from Yeosang with a short goodbye, only remembering he was supposed to ask the other for a ride home after school when he’s finally gotten his lunch. Making a mental note to text Yeosang before the school day ends, Wooyoung slides into a seat across from his English partner of two years, Kim Hongjoong who shoots him a wave without looking up from his laptop. 

“Any new essay requests?” Wooyoung asks as he unwraps a sandwich and pulls two cans of Sprite from his bag, passing one to Hongjoong.

“I need you to do Mina Kim’s rhetorical analysis of that op-ed Mr. White assigned us last year. I’m finishing her boyfriend's Biology work for a bit of extra cash right now. I know most of our regulars are reading Gatsby this year, so we’ll split those, and I’ll take the Scarlet Letter assignments. That’s gonna leave you with all the extra small assignments,”

“Not math though. I can’t do math for shit,”

“I’m not accepting math assignments this year, everything else is already hard enough to keep track of,”

Wooyoung breathes a sigh of relief as he bites into his sandwich, flicking through games on his phone, “I’ll start on that analysis soon. How much is she paying?”

“You know Mina needs the help and struggles with cash, so since it’s a small assignment I let her off with a 10 dollar fee this time,” Hongjoong looks up at Wooyoung for the first time since he’d sat down, seemingly gauging his reaction. Wooyoung only flashes him a thumbs up and returns his attention to the small screen in his hand. 

Sometime later when lunch is close to ending and Wooyoung’s finished his food, he catches sight of San at a table across the room, laughing with a large group of students. Wooyoung recognizes most of them as athletes, cheerleaders, and a few familiar faces from class. 

“Joong, do you know anything about San,” Wooyoung directs his gaze away from San and his friends to stare at his own hands, missing Hongjoong’s eyes flickering up to study his expression.

“Yeah, San’s pretty popular and well-liked. He’s paid us to do a couple of his assignments before. I know he’s got a bad temper and it got him kicked from the basketball team... From what I’ve heard, he’s got a violent streak, as nice as he can be,” Hongjoong relays, startling Wooyoung. He glances back at San and focuses on how his eyes screw up when he smiles. Wooyoung never would have pegged him as the rough type after their interactions, but he reasons that he couldn’t know anything about San after spending barely an hour with him. 

When lunch ends, Wooyoung trails behind Hongjoong to their shared English period and tries to distract himself from the memory of San speaking to him with so much kindness despite knowing his sexuality.

-

Wooyoung’s school day is over when his fifth period ends, but he sticks around for the final hour to wait for Yeosang so his mom can drive him home. He’s sat under his locker, legs splayed out in front of him and a book in hand. Despite having read The Great Gatsby numerous times now, he scans the pages again to prepare for another year of writing essays and analyses of the text in exchange for a bit of extra spending money. Every once in a while he hears footsteps echoing through the hallway as people exit the building or rush to their classes late. He doesn’t pay much attention to anything around him until a pair of feet enter his line of sight.

“You busy?”

Wooyoung glances up, meeting bright eyes and even brighter hair. “Oh! Hey, San,”

“You don’t have class?” San asks as he sinks to sit next to Wooyoung, legs crossing neatly beneath him.

“No, I only have a second, third, and fifth this semester. I’m just waiting for my ride home to finish his classes,”

“I see…” San trails off and locks his gaze on the book in Wooyoung's grasp. “I could give you a ride if you’d like,”

Wooyoung jerks and looks at San, eyes full of doubt as he searches San’s.

“You don’t have class?”

“Nah, I’ve got first and sixth unscheduled. It wouldn’t be a big deal to take you at all,” San’s looking at him with sincerity and Wooyoung feels oddly shy under his stare, but he accepts. San stands as Wooyoung tucks his book away in his bag, then holds out a hand to help him stand. Wooyoung gapes at the outstretched appendage for a second, before grabbing it and letting San pull him to his feet. Neither of them let go immediately. Wooyoung focuses on how his hand feels engulfed in San’s larger one, while San keeps his eyes on Wooyoung. They only pull away when Wooyoung glances up at San through his lashes, tugging his hand away to move one side of his hair out of his line of sight and behind his ear. 

“So lead the way,” Wooyoung awkwardly titters, feeling a bit like a schoolgirl with a stupid crush.

San leads him to an old fashioned white car, adorned with black stripes and strikingly clean.

“A sports car!” Wooyoung gasps.

“She’s sweet, right. She’s a 69’ Chevy Camaro, complete with a red interior. My dad worked hard for a long time to get her,” San proudly announces, patting the top of the car.

“What did you name her?”

“Oh,” San laughs and reaches up to tug at his earring. Wooyoung thinks the action is cute. “My dad named her Pearl, I’ve stuck with it,”

“I like it. Pearl,” Wooyoung echoes, rolling the name over his tongue and sliding a hand over the shiny door, before grabbing the door handle. He looks up at San, “She’s so clean,”

“I wax her every couple of months and clean her all the time. I want her to look her best,”

“She sure does,” Wooyoung affirms and waits for San to unlock the car, before tugging the door open and sliding in. He runs his fingers gently over the interior, feeling the dashboard and leather seats. The gear stick has a large white ball at the top and Wooyoung guesses the radio is the same one originally installed in the vehicle. He breathes out in content, not bothering to conceal the upturn of his lips, “I think I love her,”

San beams back at him, dimples on full display as he strokes the wheel lovingly. “She is pretty amazing. You’re welcome in her whenever. If you want, I could start giving you rides when you need them,”

Wooyoung looks down at his feet and grins, fiddling with his fingers as San turns the keys in the admission. He listens to Pearl roar to life and watches as San’s hand encloses around the gear stick. He’s still smiling as he finally answers, “I think I might just take you up on that offer,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twitter: jjbensxn  
> Tumblr: jfcyoonmin


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